SOS
by xxWickedWench
Summary: "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Two souls brought together by Fate, then torn apart again. Background for my Spot&Angel trilogy. Complete
1. eye

**WARNING: These oneshots are not for the faint of heart. They are real, raw emotion and reality from children who are abused sexually by people they thought they could trust. I am not going to dance around the subject matter. I am going to be real with you. If you feel you cannot handle it, then I appreciate it, I know that, and I accept it. But these things need to be written. You need to know what it's like every day for these kids, voiceless from the monsters that control their lives and make them powerless. If you've been abused, then you can sympathize easily with Lissa. If you haven't, then you cannot possibly imagine the pain. Thank you.**

* * *

**S.O.S**

**Chapter One**

_April 19, 1892_

To me, eyes are the most important part of your body. They see colors, shapes, curves, people. If I were blind, I am sure I would hate it. To see is to live. If you are not living, then what are you doing? Existing. Floating through the world, looking around, wondering what you're doing here. Sometimes that's how I felt. Sometimes I still feel that way.

Sometimes, eyes are bad. The stupid pupil has to take in everything. Sometimes there is good in the world, and you want your eyes to feast upon its greatness. Other times you just want to cover them because of the filth that they have to endure. The eye is a traitor. It looks even when every single fiber of your being cries for it to look away; the eye looks without shame, without fear, upon the thing that frightens you the most.

Perhaps that is why I like the eyelid. Do you know what it does? It covers your eyes from things you do not want to see. The eyelid protects your eye from dust, dirt, potentially harmful objects. It is the body natural defense to something it doesn't want to get into your eye.

So then why is it that when you are truly paralyzed by fear, do your eyes not close? Why, whenever something truly awful passed through your pupil, do your eyelids not respond and close? Have you ever been so terrified that you don't dare look away, for fear of the repercussions of that simple action?

I have.

**:-:-:-:-:-:**

Running without shoes was possibly the least smart thing I could have done. Especially on a dirt road, in the middle of Ireland, in spring. The weather in Ireland was unpredictable as it was predictable. You could count on overcast skies, rain almost every day. But it was always pretty cool, even during the summer, with a constant breeze from the ocean nearby.

I was determined to reach the creek, though. I could feel myself limping as I ran, from the absolute soreness between my legs, and I pushed myself harder. I loved running, because it was freeing, but right now I felt as if I was running for my life.

Deep in the forest of Tralee there was a creek. A creek whose mouth was the ocean, but a creek nonetheless. When I found it, though, I yanked my dirty dress off and sunk down into the cold water, finally allowing the tears to well in my eyes. I sobbed for a good ten minutes in the creek while scrubbing myself with my hands. The water turned a slight pink from the blood that ran in rivulets down my thighs.

I felt so dirty, so disgusting. I pulled my dress in after I felt sufficiently scrubbed and began scrubbing it as well, wanting to soak out all the blood, all traces of my father's handiwork. I forced myself to calm down, because little girls did not cry.

I climbed out onto the bank and pulled my dress back on, falling backwards against the grass, breathing heavily. The soreness between my legs did not go away in the cold water, merely ached and burned each time I breathed, a distinct ache that felt like those terrible bruises where you could feel your blood pumping behind the bruise.

Then I heard voices. I couldn't get my body to respond or to move so I just lay there, horrified, and still in shock from what had just happened to me.

_Daddy's never touched me that way before,_ my brain mused. _Never hurt me like before._

I'd only seen him act this way with my mother.

_It was the middle of the night and I'd woken up to a strange noise. It sounded like an animal and it worried me. Daddy hated it when animals got into our food cellar. I got up to investigate, knowing Daddy would be mad if it was a raccoon or some such animal. But the noises came from my parents' room. Frowning, I crept down the hallway and peeked into their room. My mother is on her knees, trembling, and my father is sweating, his eyes rolling back into his head._

_I am truly frightened. I want to go in, to make my mother safe. She always says if anything bad should happen, I am to run to the police straightaway. But I find my feet are nailed to the floor. I can't move. I can't breathe._

_My father spots me as I'm about to step into the room to put a stop to my mothers' suffering. He makes a "wait" sign with his hand and then puts is finger to his lips. He makes another animal sound and my mother falls back against her pillow, breathing heavily._

_When my feet are no longer nailed to the floor, I run back to my room and burrow under my blankets. Daddy follows, whispers in my ear. That I am a good girl, and a brave girl. And should I hear those noises again, come to their room straightaway to make sure my mother is safe, but make sure to stay very quiet. It is our secret._

_The next few nights, I am awakened by the same noises. Each night, I creep to my parents' room to make sure my mother is kept safe for another night._

I only know now that my father had lied to me. He wasn't keeping her safe. He was doing what he did just now to me. He was doing only what should be kept sacred for a man and a wife. But now I am broken. Now I know what it is like to be a real woman.

The voices got louder, closer, and I sat up, suddenly aware of the fact that I was just laying there, not moving. I didn't stand up, didn't dare move. I was just quiet as a mouse, looking up only when they came into view.

It was a man, and presumably his son. They both had blond hair, and they both carrying squirming rabbits by their back legs. They were laughing, and I didn't know what to make of that. Weren't all families like mine? My parents didn't laugh. They fought. I didn't understand.

The taller man spotted me first. "What have we here? A wood elf perhaps?" he said, his voice reverberating from the trees. I flinched instinctively, terrified. Would I be hurt again, in the same manner that my father had hurt me just now?

I stood up, and turned to go.

"Whoa there, little girl," the man said, catching my shoulder. I couldn't move, my feet nailed into the soft earth. My father called me 'little girl' to demean me, to show that I would always be a child, something to abuse, use, penetrate, break.

"I was just going. I'm sorry to bother you," I stammered, sounding weak. My brain gave me a shove internally for sounding like such a baby.

_What would your daddy say if he heard you sounding like such a baby?_ my brain mocked me.

"Where's the fire, little elf?" the taller man asked.

I didn't understand the tone in his voice. I'd never heard such a tone used in my entire life. It was alien to my ears, and I found I didn't like that. Not knowing was awful.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" my mouth blurted and my brain kicked me repeatedly.

"Well, for one, pretty little girls shouldn't be out in the forest alone. Who knows what sort of wild animals live out here?" the man smiled, still using that same foreign tone that confused me. "Second of all, you're soaking wet and it's the middle of April. You'll catch your death."

I shrugged and looked at my feet, which were soggy and dirty from standing on the muddy creek floor.

"You should come home for lunch with us," the younger boy spoke next, surprising me. "My mother always makes more than enough for us."

"That's a great idea, Sean," the older man said, patting the boy on the shoulders with a large hand. "Carolina has a dress she could borrow."

I opened my mouth to protest, but I found myself following along with them before I even realized it. I learned that the older man's name was William Conlon and he was a well-known carpenter in Tralee. His son was called Sean, and he had a glittering smile that made me feel the urge to blush.

We reached their cottage and William greeted his wife with a kiss. She was a lovely woman with soft auburn colored hair pulled into a sensible bun and large brown doe eyes that made her look sweet. Her face was young, though, not weathered and tired like my mother's was.

"And who have we here?" the woman asked, bending down to smile at me.

I pressed my lips together, realizing I hadn't told them my own name. I didn't want to trust these people, but they hadn't given me a reason not to. I figured it would be wise to just reciprocate politely, like I was taught to.

"My name is Alyssa Mae O'Rourke," I said clearly.

The woman beamed. "Well, Alyssa Mae O'Rourke, I am Maggie."

I blushed again. "My mother calls me Lissa. I think I like that name best."

She smiled and led me up the stairs. We sat in the bathroom and she ran water from the mouth of a water pump over my feet to clean them off. I undressed as she went to get me a new dress to wear. I smiled, enjoying the feel of the water, until she returned and gasped.

I looked up at her and frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"There's…" she stopped. "There's blood between your legs, darling."

I stood up instantly, looking down in horror. The blood had severely slowed, but it was still trickling down my spindly legs. She grabbed a nearby washcloth and, after getting my nod, began cleaning me off.

"Mother of God, save our souls," she murmured and shook her head. "Who has hurt you this way, Lissa? Please tell me."

I shook my head. "You wouldn't understand. Nobody understands. He loves me. He said it himself. He wouldn't do things to me if he didn't love me and want me to know."

"Alyssa, what he does is not all right," Maggie said and stared straight into my eyes.

I tugged myself away from her, glaring suddenly. "How would you know?"

"Because my father did the same to me when I was small," she whispered.

I stared up into her eyes again, searching for something, but I wasn't sure what I was searching for. She understood me. She knew what it was like to live in fear, to be in pain. A respect welled inside my chest for her. She cleaned me up, patted me dry with a towel and wrapped me in a new dress that fit nicely.

And then she hugged me, long and hard, and told me things would be all right. And to come to their house if I should need anything.

As I walked behind her to join her family, I realized I could finally identify the tone of voice that William Conlon used with me that had been so foreign:

Love.

* * *

**_As much as Elaine Vivian wanted a sneak peak to CHESS, I am going to go ahead with my oneshots. Because I am a scab like that. :)_**

**_However, just because her suggestion got me thinking, I will post a snippet of one of the chapters at the end of this series of oneshots. Just to tide you over until I get the real story up._**

**_Now then, I hate whoring for reviews but... the more you review, the faster I get these up and the closer you get to CHESS... Just sayin'. C:_**

**_CTB!_**

**_xx Wicked_**

**_PS- I've posted the link to the summer fanfiction contest on my profile. Vote for me perhaps? (I'm pushing for best couple but I'm not being picky or nothin'... C: )_**


	2. escape

**WARNING: These oneshots are not for the faint of heart. They are real, raw emotion and reality from children who are abused sexually by people they thought they could trust. I am not going to dance around the subject matter. I am going to be real with you. If you feel you cannot handle it, then I appreciate it, I know that, and I accept it. But these things need to be written. You need to know what it's like every day for these kids, voiceless from the monsters that control their lives and make them powerless. If you've been abused, then you can sympathize easily with Lissa. If you haven't, then you cannot possibly imagine the pain. Thank you.**

* * *

**S.O.S**

**Chapter Two**

_June 2, 1893_

Alyssa Mae O'Rourke liked to pretend she was a happy child. She liked watching the school children as they left the only schoolhouse in Tralee, running and jumping and having the time of their lives. They laughed and played and skipped and worried not about the terrible things like those Lissa worried about. She was alone in the world, lost like a moon without a planet to orbit around, without a purpose, without hope.

So, now, as she stood in the kitchen, listening to her parents fighting, she felt old. At eleven years of age, Alyssa O'Rourke felt very old. And very, very sleepy. She clasped her hands in front of her, after smoothing her wrinkled dress, and listened. They were fighting about her again. Weren't they always?

She'd finally gotten the courage to tell her mother about what The Monster was doing to her at night. How he crawled under her colorful blanket, whispering terrible things into her ear, touching her in a way only a man should touch his wife. And her mother was horrified. So now, she listened as The Monster told her mother that she was a liar. Why would Alyssa say those things? He merely liked cuddling with his daughter. If that is a crime, let him be hanged for loving his daughter!

And, just like all the other times, Mary would bend to his will, knowing in her heart what he was doing, but her head told her to submit. It was the way of a wife. Alyssa told herself quietly that she would never be a wife to any man, if this was to be her fate. Not even to Sean, with whom she harbored great, deep feelings of something like love.

Her insides warmed slightly at the thought of him. He was probably working in his father's shop, sawing wood and measuring lengths. Sean Conlon was her best friend. And tonight, they were making their escape to America.

Alyssa looked up when her mother entered the room, her dull red hair a mass of unbrushed ringlets. Her jade green eyes regarded Alyssa's Granny Smith apple eyes and something passed between mother and daughter. Mary had failed to protect her daughter and the guilt was written plain as day all of her face. But Lissa expected this. How could she be so foolish as to think her mother would defend her in front of her father?

"Alyssa, why don't you go play with your dolls upstairs?" Mary said, her voice sounding as tired as Lissa felt.

Both weighed down by the same man, but with different guilt. Lissa's guilt was that her body betrayed her time and time again at The Monster's hand, enjoying it while her mouth and brain cried out from the pain. She hated herself, hated her body for betraying her anguish to the monster that lived in her house. Mary's guilt, knowing her daughter was being abused, but doing nothing. To Lissa, this made her mother a monster as well.

Lissa held her chin a little higher, wanting to hurt her mother as much as her father hurt her, just so she knew what it was like to be burdened down by the weight of his threats, of his hand, of his fear-inflicting gazes. Mary looked away first, unable to look at the ghosts that haunted her daughter's eyes, knowing that the monster who inflicted them was the same man she shared her bed with.

But she couldn't face the reality. It was easier to pretend things weren't happening, so that Tralee wouldn't see the scandal of it. Not that it mattered. Mary had nowhere to turn to, even if she were to tell.

"Will you never stand up for me, Momma?" Lissa asked, shocking Mary at first. The shock passed through her well-trained face, the face that betrayed nothing, no sympathy, no affection, until it settled back into its emotionless state.

"Lissie, darling, I've enough stress in my life. Don't add to it with your wild lies," Mary said, sounding weary but her face, and her heart, betrayed no sympathy for her daughter.

And just like that, the last little thread of hope she had that her mother would ever be on her side, shattered. Mary would always be on the opposite side of the playing field. She would never choose her daughter over her husband.

Lissa didn't look away, didn't cry, didn't stomp in frustration. But she clamped her mouth shut as the scream welled up in her throat, wanting to burst forth. Instead, Lissa squared her small shoulders and marched herself from the kitchen towards the back of the small house, intent on packing her last few things for that night. The night when she and Sean would make their escape.

"Little girl."

Lissa stopped as a gruff voice called out to her. She turned her head slightly, seeing The Monster sitting in his chair, drinking brandy from a shot glass and smiling crookedly at her. He so terrified Lissa. So very much.

"Would you bring me my brandy from the cabinet, Aly?" he purred, using the name she so hated.

At first, she thought about walking away, but she was sure she'd get a thorough beating, on top of a disgusting grope if she even made an attempt. Swallowing her fear, she entered the monster's cave, taking the keys from his hand, careful not to touch him. She walked to the cabinet on the far side of the room and unlocked it, pulling out the brown flask. She glared at it while her back was still turned and then relocked the curio cabinet, walking both the alcohol and the key back to the waiting fiend.

She set the flask on the stand beside his chair and set the keys beside it, staring right into his terrible eyes. Desperate to leave, Lissa made a move towards the door when a large hand wrapped around her small wrist, tugging hard, forcing her to stand still.

"I love watching you walk, baby," he said quietly.

Acid mixed with fear rose in her throat and when the vice on her wrist was released, she all but ran from the room, his eyes burning holes in her back as she left him. She closed the door to her bedroom and glared at her bed; the bed her body was bruised and broken in. She hated it. Hated sleeping in it. Hated.

There was a trunk at the foot of her bed, where she kept her dolls. She'd hidden them underneath some old things inside of it, after she'd chopped all of their yarn hair off and pulled their button eyes off, so they wouldn't have to see the bad things like she did.

With a frown, she sat down on that trunk, looking around. Under the dark of night, she and Sean would make their escape. Sending a quick prayer up under her breath, Lissa climbed up out of her window, dropping to the grass underneath rather ungracefully. She stood up and dusted herself off from grass and dirt, and then ran headlong up the dirt street. She liked running. It was freeing.

She reached the Conlon's cottage in record time, smoothing her dress down shyly before she knocked on the front door. Maggie Conlon kept telling her to just come right in, since they were practically family now anyways, but Lissa's manners on top of her natural shyness prevented her from doing just that.

Maggie came to the door and smiled as she peered down at Lissa with bright blue eyes that reminded Lissa of Sean. "Hello, little Lissie," she said sweetly and Lissa smiled shyly.

"Hello, Mrs. Conlon. I hope I'm not bothering you," she said clearly, wringing her hands shyly in front of her.

"Not at all, darling. Come on in. We were just about to have lunch," Maggie said, inviting her in. The warm smell of lamb stew invaded her nose and Lissa felt her stomach rumble in response.

Lissa smiled and embraced Carolina when she cam running down the steps. Carolina was almost ten years old, with straw blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Lissa liked the little girl, and she liked watching Sean interact with his sister. He was a good big brother.

"Lissie! I'm so glad you're here!" Carolina exclaimed.

Blushing, Lissa smoothed a hand down Carolina's free-flowing haystack of hair, like a mother would with her child. Like she wished her mother would do to her hair.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," Lissa responded, enjoying the child-like wonder and the innocence that permeated Carolina's little being. How so she desperately wished she could still have that innocence.

"All right, all right. Let's not hang all over Lissa, Carrie," Maggie told her daughter, giving her a swift pat on the bottom as she left Lissa to trot into the kitchen.

Lissa followed Maggie into the kitchen and smiled at Carolina, who waved at her from the table. _She's adorable,_ Lissa decided mentally.

"Sit down, Lissie dear," Maggie said. "Carolina, come set the table before the men get home."

Lissa lowered herself into a chair and watched Carolina set the table, setting out bowls for the stew and spoons beside them. The front door was opened and Lissa felt her heart fluttering like around like some excitable bird.

"Hello there, little wood elf."

William Conlon entered the room, tall and strong with blond hair and bright blue eyes. The angles and planes of his face were sharp, making him handsome but the sweat on his brow gave him a rugged look. He came over and kissed his wife in greeting. Sean shuffled into the room and came to sit beside Lissa, leaning over to kiss her cheek out of instinct, almost completely copying his parents' actions.

Making Lissa smile was one of Sean's favorite things to do. It was a rarity, though, something she didn't do very often. She didn't like to smile. But for some odd reason, he felt compelled to continue to try and make her smile. He wanted to be the reason why she smiled.

So when Lissa's mouth quirked upwards in some semblance of a smile when his lips touched her cheek, Sean counted it as a win. They all held hands and said grace before they finally served themselves from the giant pot of stew. Lissa couldn't remember the last time she'd felt good enough to eat something, having constant nausea at home from The Monster lurking about. But now that she was away from her house, she found that she was starving.

A bowl and a half of stew in, the knocking began at the front door. The warm food turned to lead in her belly and she dropped her spoon, knowing instantly that it was The Monster.

"He doesn't know I'm here," she gasped and stood up, shaking all over. "I promise. I've not said anything about you all."

"It's all right, Lissie," Maggie said, standing up herself. "Sean, take Lina upstairs and don't say a word. I shall fetch you when this is over."

Sean stood up, picking Carolina up, holding her with one hand, grabbing Lissa's hand with the other. They raced upstairs and hid nearby to listen. Carolina was just fine with this, because she got up and went to her room to play with her dolls.

William answered the door, followed by Maggie. The Monster was all smiles when the door of the cottage was opened to him.

"Hello, there," he said pleasantly. "I seem to have misplaced my child. She has long strawberry blond hair, green eyes, uh… small and short. Have you seen her anywhere around?"

No. We haven't," William said stiffly.

Sean pressed closer to Lissa, pressing against her back while his hand held her shoulder. Every once and a while, a small tremor would shake his body. Lissa was shocked to realize that he was scared, too.

"Do you know of anyone who would know? I hate to think of my _child_ out in the town all alone," The Monster pressed.

"No," William responded, just as stiffly.

The door closed then. No 'thank you'; nothing. Maggie was swearing in Gaelic and William was speaking to her in soft tones. Sean and Lissa stood up at the same time, padding back down the stairs. Lissa couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that perhaps these people actually cared about her. It was perplexing.

Night fell quickly upon the Emerald Isle. All that was left to do was go back to Lissa's house to get her knapsack of things to take to the new world. Maggie gave Sean the change purse full of money that would buy their voyage across the ocean, plus take care of food for a few days while Sean got a job.

Sean knew he was to take care of Lissa. He and his father had a very long talk about it that morning. Not like Sean found this a problem. Ever since meeting Lissa, he decided his sole mission in life would be to protect her at all costs. And he would do just that.

With one last hug goodbye, Sean and Lissa departed from his house and went for her house. Sean gave her a boost inside the window and she dropped soundlessly to the floor. Lissa crept to her bed and pulled her knapsack out from under it, smiling into the darkness. She was about to turn when her door opened. Lissa froze and turned as The Monster entered the room, staring at her with drunken eyes until he realized who it was.

"You!" he shouted and staggered towards her. Lissa evaded him easily, since he was drunk. "Get back here, you bitch!"

"Lissa, come on! It's time to go!" Sean called, waving her over as she dropped her things on the ground. She pushed herself against the hole in her window, bending herself in half, Sean pulling on her arms to get her out. The window was small and it wasn't easy to maneuver out of quickly.

Lissa screamed when The Monster's hand gripped her ankle, giving it a sharp tug. She turned her frightened eyes to Sean. His face set in a determined mask and he began pulling on Lissa as hard as he could. Lissa kicked and fought to get free but The Monster was much stronger that she was.

"Stupid whore! I'll break you for this!" he shouted, gripping her other ankle as it flailed backwards, trying to kick him. With one last effort, Sean pulled and Lissa kicked and she was out of the window.

Lissa fell forward and the both of them flopped onto the ground together. Sean grabbed her bag, pulled her up and the two of them ran off into the night, The Monster shouting and growling behind them.

"You bitch! I'll find you! No matter where you go, I WILL FIND YOU!"

The two children ran the entire six miles it took to get to the Fenit marina, which was very, very painful. Lissa though her lungs were about ready to throb out of her chest; they hurt so deeply. Her leg muscles felt taunt and heavy, and she felt like wanting to stop Sean so she could rest, but she couldn't. They couldn't.

They had to make it to the marina on time, 'else they wouldn't catch their ship on time and they would be up the creek without a paddle, so to speak. And Lissa didn't want to go home and face her father's wrath.

They stopped at the mouth of the dock maze to catch their breath. Sean handed Lissa a small decanter of water he'd brought with him, letting her drink half while he only took two small sips, letting her have the rest. Getting her out of Ireland was his main priority. He would tend to himself later. Lissa was who mattered most.

Pulling the money from his pocket, he handed two pounds to the toll man, who inspected the bills for fraud and then let the children pass.

Once safely aboard the _SS New York_, Lissa curled against Sean's shoulder and allowed herself to cry.

* * *

**_Thanks to everyone for their kind words. You all keep me writing. :) Next up: how Lissa and Sean got separated. This is so sad. It's tempting to just let them stay together. So I tried my hand at third person point of view, as you can tell. Ehhh, what do you guys think? I'm not sure how I feel about it._**

**_CTB!_**

**_xx Wicked_**

**_PS- I've posted the link to the summer fanfiction contest on my profile. Vote for me perhaps? (I'm pushing for best couple but I'm not being picky or nothin'... C: )_**


	3. lost

**WARNING: These oneshots are not for the faint of heart. They are real, raw emotion and reality from children who are abused sexually by people they thought they could trust. I am not going to dance around the subject matter. I am going to be real with you. If you feel you cannot handle it, then I appreciate it, I know that, and I accept it. But these things need to be written. You need to know what it's like every day for these kids, voiceless from the monsters that control their lives and make them powerless. If you've been abused, then you can sympathize easily with Lissa. If you haven't, then you cannot possibly imagine the pain. Thank you.**

* * *

**S.O.S**

**Chapter Three**

_July 5, 1893_

It took 33 days to cross the Atlantic Ocean. From Fenit to Ellis Island, it took us 33 days. People got sick and died on the voyage, having to be thrown overboard, where their bodies were claimed by the unyielding black waters. Sean kept us out of the deck when a sickness broke out, saying the fresh air would help keep me healthy. I wasn't terribly worried about it. I was healthy as an ox; I didn't get sick often, and when I did, it clearly us as quickly as it set in.

But there was so swaying Sean.

We didn't speak much to each other the first few days, but I suspected that Sean got little to no sleep, probably listening as I cried softly, deep into the night, before allowing sleep to overtake me.

Six days into the trip, he started speaking to me. I didn't cry that night, or any other night after that at all. I hated putting stress on him, because I knew that I was, and I hated it. I decided that was the reason he didn't speak to me for a few days. There was nothing to say, I supposed.

I was asleep on his shoulder when I was awoken by loud whispers. They were saying that we'd made it to Ellis Island. The place we'd been voyaging to. Sean smiled silently and pulled me out onto the deck with him. The breath was sucked from my lungs as I gazed upon the embankment, the sky filled with buildings and loveliness.

I looked up, staring in wonder at the large green woman that dissected the blue morning sky. She was tall, with a book in one hand and a light in the other. She was not a goddess, nor did she seem like anyone important. She was a simple woman, calling us forth onto this new adventure.

I decided that she was hope. Hope for something that was worth hoping for: freedom.

It took an eternity for us to make port, and an eternity and a half for us to be allowed to move off the ship. But when we were allowed, I found myself walking with a bit more buoyancy, holding Sean's hand tightly in my anticipation. Everything seemed so… alive here. There was so much noise and I didn't even mind the fact that it looked a little dirty. I expected that. It was a _city_.

But, goodness it was so exciting!

We were asked out names, ages, and ho much money we had. Sean pulled out a few Irish pounds from his pocket and the man behind the counter exchanged it for some odd looking bills and an assortment of coins. After giving us a six second once over from a doctor, we were deemed fit to enter, assigned a bunk and then pushed out of the way.

Sean and I ascended the large marble stairs and finally found our way to the room that was assigned to us. We got one bunk for the both of us, since there were many people all ready here. The bunks looked uncomfortable, but Sean all ready assured me that we weren't staying here long. He'd get a job somewhere and it would be just us.

I plopped myself down on the bunk that was assigned to us and he sat down beside me. I pulled the small knapsack I had into my lap, rummaging through it until my fingers curled around the tiny silver skeleton key.

"What're you doing?" he asked, watching me pull out the twine that bound my hair, threading the key onto it before I tied the loose ends together.

I smiled at him. "I want you to have this," I told him seriously, pressing the makeshift necklace into his hands. "Will you keep it safe?"

His blue eyes softened and he smiled. "Sure will, Liss," he agreed and placed the necklace around his neck. It looked nice on him. Fitting, even.

It was then that I noticed how tired he looked. Dark, bruise-like shadows filled under his eyes and his face looked tired. I felt awful. He must have seen my face fall because he frowned, too.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip. "You're tired." It wasn't a question.

Sean shrugged. "So?"

"So you should sleep," I said simply.

He must have been exhausted, because he didn't protest, just curled up and went to sleep. I smiled at him, yawning softly, and curled up beside him. It took be a while to fall asleep, because it felt like my body was still was rocking slightly from being on a boat for so long. But when sleep did come, I embraced it readily.

When I was roused from my sleep, I felt stiff but rested. Sean was nowhere to be found. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, hoping it was just my sleep-muddled brain that couldn't find Sean, but he wasn't here.

I stood up slowly and shuffled out to what seemed to be the front door, finding him sitting on the curb, throwing pebbles out onto the cobblestone road. I sat down beside him and glared at him until he looked over at me.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" I accused.

He grinned sheepishly. "I do so," he defended and then sighed when I continued to glare. "For a little bit, I did sleep."

I sighed. "You were supposed to sleep, Sean."

"I found a job," he said, changing the subject rather completely, and my brain was quickly redirected to his new statement.

I was surprised. "That was fast." He nodded, but didn't offer anymore information. "Okay, so what's the job?"

"Selling newspapers."

I laughed for a few moments, thinking he was kidding. Selling newspapers was not the most… well paying job, nor was it something you boasted about often. I knew about them from hearing stories about them in Dublin. Newsboys were dirty, rotten, and had no manners. I couldn't picture my Sean, sandy blond haired and blue eyed Sean Conlon being a newsboy. It didn't look right in my head.

"You got any better ideas?" he teased and nudged my shoulder playfully with his. I smiled at him.

"I guess not. So where are we going to live?" I asked.

"The state must give them housing. It's a nickel a night to stay, whatever that means," he said. We both still weren't too keen on the whole money situation, but I supposed that we were going to learn as we went.

"And we can both stay there?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Sure can. It'll be fine, Liss. I promised you I'd take care of you. It's the best I can do so far. And I'm not resorting to stealing. My dad would be mad," he said and we both laughed quietly at the thought.

Eventually, he stood up and pulled me along as well. We walked back in to the large castle structure to get our stuff.

"I'll take you to the Lodging House and we can get settled," he decided and clutched my hand, tugging me gently towards the ferry that would take us to the main land of New York.

I leaned against the railing out in the front, watching the water pass quickly. The ferry was smaller, so it went faster. I watched the land approached rapidly and hopped off when the ferry docked, after Sean paid the correct amount to the captain for taking us across the bay.

The main part of New York was even busier than Ellis Island. It was fabulous. Every single building seemed to whisper stories that they so ached to tell. Newsboys heckled everyone as they went by, shop keepers yelled out their wares, young ladies dressed in white skirts and blouses walked briskly by.

Everything was so incredibly loud and exciting, and I must not have heard Sean telling me to follow him. I was caught up in this exciting new world, a new world that screamed for me to jump in head first and embrace this new freedom, this new hope.

Until I realized that Sean was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but there were too many faces. Too many faces that were not his. I started off down the street, hoping t find him standing on a street corner, waiting patiently for me to come and find him again.

But he wasn't there.

So I kept walking, looking around corners and into alleyways, hoping to find him. The only thing I didn't know was that he was walking purposefully in the opposite direction, not even knowing that I was gone.

* * *

**_This is for all of you lovely people. Know why? Because today July 21st, is the anniversary of our boys' strike. (Thanks to Adren who posted it on the NML). That's right, loves. :) If there was no strike, there would've been no movie, hence no Gabe Damon for us all to drool over/flytackleglomp/write fictions about. So, yay for that! Also, one more chapter before this is over! Kinda sad, but I'm sure you all are chomping at the dang bit for me to get the third of the trilogy out. I know, I know. Patience, young friends. In due time. :)_**

**_Oh, and I forgot to add this at the beginning, but I want to thank Miss Izabeal Finley for inspiring me with her amazing, life changing story. Honestly, dear, if not for you, my Lissa!muse would still be nervous and shy in the back of my head, afraid to tell her story to me, and to all of you. Maybe even to my Spot!muse. Teehee. So I just wanted to say thank you, and keep going. Because it's girls like you that make us all realize how seriously strong we can be, when we have to be strong. I luff you, Izzy. I really do._**

**_CTB!_**

**_xx Wicked_**

**_PS- I've posted the link to the summer fanfiction contest on my profile. Vote for me perhaps? (I'm pushing for best couple but I'm not being picky or nothin'... C: )_**


	4. gone

**WARNING: These oneshots are not for the faint of heart. They are real, raw emotion and reality from children who are abused sexually by people they thought they could trust. I am not going to dance around the subject matter. I am going to be real with you. If you feel you cannot handle it, then I appreciate it, I know that, and I accept it. But these things need to be written. You need to know what it's like every day for these kids, voiceless from the monsters that control their lives and make them powerless. If you've been abused, then you can sympathize easily with Lissa. If you haven't, then you cannot possibly imagine the pain. Thank you.**

* * *

**S.O.S**

**Chapter Four**

_May 27, 1896_

_She's gone,_ he thought. She'd been gone for almost three now. He had no idea where she was. No idea she was even gone until he turned around and she wasn't following. He tried to backtrack through the mob, but she was long gone by then.

But he kept good on his word. He became a newsboy, just in case she ever wanted to come and find him again. He got a little nervous, though, when the boys took to calling him Spot shortly after joining, because he stayed at the same damn spot on the sidewalk everyday after selling his papers, looking for his Lissa, playing with the secret key around his neck, hoping she'd come back.

But she never did.

He had some friends now, even a best friend who called himself Silver because he was always admiring the pure silver pocket watches of the older gentleman he liked selling his papers to.

Slowly, Sean Albert Conlon, no, _Spot Conlon_ was becoming cold. He was growing rather infamous for his frosty glares and regardless of his age, he had a commanding presence that demanded people to respect him. He didn't take slack from the older boys who thought it appropriate to pick on the younger ones. He even stood up for a few of his fellow newsboys, getting in the face of boys twice his size because of it.

This boldness earned him quite a few shiners, cracked ribs and an assortment of bruises, but he didn't give up. He kept getting up when people knocked him down, and some may have called him foolish, but he paid them no mind.

He wanted to be so well-known that word would get around to wherever Lissa was, and he'd find her again. As always, everything he did, he did for her, because of her.

Eventually, he gave up standing on that street corner to look for Lissa, since Ace, the current Brooklyn leader, announced to everyone that he was going to take his girl Annie Parks and marry her. He'd all ready asked for her father's blessing, which he got, with one condition: he had to quit being a newsie and get a 'real' job.

Ace didn't have a real second-in-command, since he was training up a bunch of the boys to become the best fighters, to carry on the proud name that came along with the large gaggle of newsies. But Ace did hint that he was hoping Spot would take his place, even being as young as he was.

But when Ace left, none of the older boys wanted some short, fourteen-year-old kid telling them what to do. It was unthinkable, and they wouldn't stand for it. The political state of Brooklyn was a constant upheaval. Every borough was on edge and skirted their way around Brooklyn when possible. Civil war was not a way to live, and the newsies were getting restless, floundering without a leader.

Spot decided that it was now or never. And he decided now rather than later.

So he declared himself official unofficial leader of the Brooklyn newsies. And faced the brunt of it afterwards, constantly looking over his shoulder, fighting for his life because it seemed that everyone wanted to jump him after that.

But he beat down his most fierce competition with a thorough soaking in front of the rest of the newsies, and the not-so-fierce opponents were cowed under the rest of the newsies' cheers and ready agreements that Spot Conlon could indeed rule Brooklyn, whether they liked that he was fourteen or not.

Once officially crowned King, Spot Conlon retreated further into himself, becoming a ghost, an enigma, the man everyone fear, respected, and even admired, but only from afar, because Spot Conlon was not someone you got close to. It was impossible, regardless of how many gorgeous girls paraded themselves in front of him, draped themselves over him, offered to work their 'magic' free of charge.

But he'd have none of it. He only had eyes for one girl, and that girl was gone. And so, just as she was gone, he was gone as well. Curled up inside himself, locked up with a silver skeleton key, waiting for her to come bursting back into his life and come running back into his arms where she belonged.

She never did.

**:-:-:-:-:**

_August 10, 1893_

Lissa watched him. He was skilled, obviously, and his casual nonchalance was amusing. He winked at her and she grinned from her hiding place. He was so funny! She watched as he approached his target, a larger gentleman who was inspected books of poetry outside a bookstore.

Dodger feigned a rather pitiful looking limp and knocked right into the older gentleman, apologizing profusely when the book was knocked from the man's hand. The man just smiled cheerfully, bending to pick the book up, patting Dodge on the shoulder because it really was no big deal.

But she saw Dodger reach in and relieve the man of his shiny pocket watch. He quickly stuffed the trinket into his vest pocket and tipped his hat congenially as he walked away. He gripped her elbow and steered her away, never breaking stride. They rounded a corner and broke off into a run, sprinting a few blocks before ducking into his alleyway and he grinned, pulling the watch out for her to admire.

"That was great!" Lissa crowed, taking the watch from him with delight. She turned it around in her hand and then snapped it open, admiring the face of the watch. It was so expensive!

She and Dodger had made an unsteady alliance. He agreed to teach her pick pocketing and she gave him half of her day's earnings. Lissa was forcing herself to improve, because she didn't want to be lorded over by this boy. He was a year older than her and it still made her nervous.

Sean had been gone for nearly a month and she was working very hard on trying to be all right with the male race, but it was weird still. She slept in Dodger's alley with him, in his box castle, which was helpful. At least it was almost completely dry.

And she'd made some friends with the newsies nearby in Manhattan. It was a large place, Manhattan, so she mulled around with Dodger, trying her hand at picking pockets, and then went off to find the newsies, who were always ready for fun and always seemed so welcoming.

Of course, the only bad thing was they didn't know she was a girl. Only Dodger knew, and he'd told her that it would be better if everyone thought she was a boy. Dodger told her that everyone would treat her different if she was a girl; they'd want to watch out for her, fight for her.

Lissa definitely didn't like that idea, so when Dodger found her an old cap, she took to stuffing her hair up under it and started talking regularly in a throaty rasp of a voice, trying to sound like a boy. Every time she talked in her 'boy' voice around the newsies, Dodger would stifle laughter because she was trying too hard. The newsies never suspected a thing, of course. They took her, or him rather, in stride and didn't treat her any different.

Lissa was glad. She wanted to prove to herself that she could be just a tough as the boys. She was learning to fend for herself, she could stand up for herself rather well. The only thing she lacked was good fighting skills, but she decided to hone those later. They weren't her priority.

By hanging around the newsies, Lissa hoped she would find Sean. Perhaps he was good on his word and became a newsboy like he said he was going to. But no matter how long she mulled around with the Manhattaners, she never saw Sean.

The day she met Medda was a day Lissa never forgot. It was nearly a year after the day she'd lost Sean. It is the funniest sensation when you try to be someone you're not in front of someone new, and they can see right through you. Medda dismissed Jack instantly from her dressing room and gave Lissa a funny look.

"Why are you pretending to be a boy?" she asked. Lissa nearly fell right over.

"What?" she choked. "I am a boy."

Medda pulled her cap off, allowing the strawberry blond hair to fall from its messy knot on top of her head. Lissa looked sheepishly at her feet. Medda gave her a stern look.

"Girls should not be living on the streets, you know," Medda said.

Lissa shrugged. "I like it. Never had to fend for myself. I don't like being told what to do," she said simply.

Medda smiled. "What do you say about giving me a chance? I have this lovely house downtown and would love for you to join my dancing troupe."

"Dancing?" Lissa wrinkled her nose. "I can't dance."

Medda smiled. "Well, then just come live with me. Anything is better than sleeping in alleyways, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "I guess you're right," she admitted and then sighed. "I _would_ like to sleep in a bed again."

"Then will you come and live with me?"

"Sure."

Jack barged back into the room and his jaw dropped when he saw Lissa's long hair. She smiled sheepishly at him.

"You're a girl!" he shouted.

Lissa grinned. "No kiddin'?" she teased and Jack came over to hug her, laughing.

Three years later, when Lissa was fourteen years old, she was sitting in the Lodging House in Manhattan, when Jack came in, grinning.

"Boys, I just heard that Brooklyn got a new leader!" he exclaimed, and everyone seemed excited by the news.

Lissa hadn't even known that Brooklyn needed a new leader.

"So who is he, Jack?" Racetrack asked, sitting beside Lissa with his arm around her shoulder, smoking a cigar. Jack grinned.

"His name is Spot."

* * *

**_Wow, that's it. I probably should've drawn it out more, but I wanted to hit the main points. I wanted to explain some things about them, give some background. And I've done that. Woot!_**

**_So. That means that it's time for the ending of the trilogy, yeah? You all are chomping at the bit for me to post it, aren't you? Wow, I get some sick fascination out of making my fans suffer. Sort of. At least I'm not a terrible author who never updates for weeks at a time (cough)RiotAct(cough). Teehee. :)_**

**_That being said, I shall end this Author's Note. And as promised to Elaine, I shall post a snippet of CHESS as a new chapter of this story. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT REVIEW CHAPTER FIVE. It is not for you to review. Simply read it, drool, and pray that I post it sooner rather than later. Review this chapter. If you review next chapter, I will kill Spot. Don't think I won't. I'll write it into the story; he will die painfully and slowly. I'm not kidding._**

**_CTB!_**

**_xx Wicked_**

**_PS- I've posted the link to the summer fanfiction contest on my profile. Vote for me perhaps? (I'm pushing for best couple but I'm not being picky or nothin'... C: )_**


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